Flagstaff
by Carol
Summary: Hinted at pre-series scene from Dark Side of the Moon. Dean has to deal with the repercussions when John comes back from a hunt to find Sam missing.


**Flagstaff**

**By Carol M**

**Summary: Expansion of scene hinted at in Dark Side of the Moon…Dean has to deal with the repercussions when John comes home and discovers Sam is missing**

**Spoilers: Dark Side of the Moon**

**Disclaimer: Don't own then, only love them**

**Note: The way Jensen had Dean balk at the memory of Sam running away in Flagstaff was simply masterful. I had to explore it further. Things get rough for Dean here. I'm not sure if I took things too far or not far enough. I'm sure others will explore this as well, and I look forward to seeing their interpretations of these hinted at events. Enjoy!**

When Dean heard the creaky slam of the Impala's door outside the motel room, he pissed himself. Not much, not enough to leave a stain, but still, actual piss. His stomach, which had already been twisted in knots of agonized worry for the last four days, dropped to his shoes in nervous dread. He would've puked all over himself right then and there if any food had been in his belly. Instead, there was a singular painfully spasmatic dry heave that doubled him over with an involuntary groan. He managed to straighten himself up just as his father barreled through the door.

"Dean, pack your stuff and grab Sam. Got a line on a new gig. We gotta move fast." John went about the business of shoving anything of relevance in the motel room into a duffel bag.

Dean didn't move a muscle. He couldn't. He swallowed thickly, his throat dry. He felt light-headed.

"Come on, Dean, move…that's an order!"

"Dad," he croaked out.

John didn't seem to hear him. Instead, he hurried past Dean into the bathroom. "Where's Sam?"

Dean swallowed back another heave as he heard the sounds of John throwing things from the bathroom into the duffel. "Ummm…" he managed, his body quivering.

John emerged from the bathroom, his face looking almost comically perplexed. He dropped the duffel to the ground and bore his eyes at Dean. "Dean, where's your brother?"

"He…uh…" he started, but he couldn't finish. He was having trouble breathing.

John's hands came up urgently to rest on his shoulders, squeezing him them. "Where's Sammy?"

Dean couldn't look his father in the eye. A burning lump of flaming coal erupted deep in his throat. He tried to swallow against it and a soft groan of air punched out of his mouth. "He's…um…I…"

John's grip turned to shackles as he jarred him harshly with a violent shake. "Damn it, Dean, where the hell is he?"

Dean forced his eyes up to meet John's and the look flashing back at him in his father's eyes was like taking a kick to the groin. There was anger…disapproval…betrayal…loss of respect…loss of love Hot tears pooled in his eyes. His bottom lip quivered. "Sammy's gone, dad. I…I lost him." A few tears broke free and dripped absently down his cheeks. "I don't know where he is."

For a moment, Dean felt relieved that he had finally gotten this out of him and that he didn't have the burden of trying to find Sam on his own anymore. Then his brain clicked over to horrendous images of all the gruesome things that might have happened to his brother and he immediately felt guilty. He didn't deserve the luxury of a peaceful retreat, even if it was for a split second. Not when the responsibility of his brother's life had been placed at his feet and he had messed it up so badly.

"What?" said John curtly, his voice tight. It was like the sound of a firing pin being removed from a grenade…right before it went off.

"Dad…I…"

Dean didn't get to finish.

John gripped his shoulders like a vise and slammed him brutally into the motel room door, the doorknob catching him square in the kidney, his head and back vibrating in dazed pain. He saw stars.

John's nostrils were flaring like a charging bull. "How could you lose your brother, Dean? If he's dead…if something got him…"

Dean's shoulders were abruptly released and then he felt the sharp whip-like sting of a backhand across his face, the hit causing his lower lip to split open. He sagged against the door, his legs barely holding him up.

"M'sorry," he mumbled.

John grabbed him by the hair and straightened him back up, his grip savage. "Sorry Dean? Sorry? Sorry's not good enough, pal. You screwed up. I mean…you royally freakin' blew it."

Dean panted and looked at his father blearily. John's eyes were wild, his head shaking back and forth, his breathing loud, strangled. It sent a chill throughout Dean's body. He was scared. No, scratch that…he was terrified.

"I know," he gasped.

John backhanded him again. Hard. Blood erupted out of his nose and trickled down his mouth.

"You don't know, Dean. You don't have any damn clue. I trust you, son. I trust you to look out for this family and protect your brother. That's your job! My job is to go out and kill all those evil sons of bitches out there and yours is to keep your brother safe. That's it. That's all I ask of you and you can't do it?"

"Dad..."

John looked him up and down in utter disgust. "I should leave you behind. I should do it all myself. It's obviously too much for you…"

"No…no dad, please…I'm sorry!"

John shook his head. "I can't believe this. I can't even fathom how you could be so stupid…so damn incompetent to let this happen. He's a kid for god sakes, Dean! You're a grown man and you let an 11 year old outsmart you?"

"I didn't…"

"How long's he been gone?"

Dean gulped. "Four days…"

John's face went white and his eyes seemed to bug out of his head. "Four days!" He grabbed Dean by the shoulders again and pummeled him against the door. "Four days he's been gone and you didn't come find me? Four days?"

"I thought I…I didn't…I don't," he panted dizzily. "I'm s…so sorry."

John pulled him away from the door and then bounced him back against the steely surface with all of his might, effectively knocking all of Dean's air out of him. He took in a wheezy gasp as John let go of his shoulders. His father's right shoulder dropped back, like he was getting ready to wind it up for a full on punch. He knew he deserved it, but an instinct of self –protection kicked in like a reflex. Dean's eyes clenched shut and his body curled up as he desperately tried to squirm away from the line of fire. But there was no place to go. He was trapped against the door. He waited for the punch…one second…two seconds…three seconds, but it never came.

He hesitantly cracked open his eyes and saw that his father's arm had dropped back down to his side. John was staring at him oddly, almost regretfully. Dean was so taken aback he momentarily forgot what they were in the middle of. "Dad?" he whispered, unable to hide the concern in his tone.

John stumbled back from him like he was drunk, looking dazed. He blinked and then his face cleared. He reached for a lamp on the nightstand, pulling it off violently. He proceeded to use the lamp as a club and smashed everything on or near the table into about a billion pieces. When he was finished, he threw the lamp to the ground so hard shards of the light bulb bounced back up onto the bed.

Dean kept himself pinned against the door, trying to remember how to breathe.

John panted harshly as his eyes took in the mess he'd just made. After a moment, his breathing slowed and his eyes drifted up to Dean's. "Pack your crap. We're gonna go find your brother."

Dean stumbled away from the door shakily, his kidney throbbing, his head buzzing, his back pounding, his heart bleeding, his soul weeping. "Yes, sir."

That's All Folks!


End file.
